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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24895375">Medent AU</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirasade/pseuds/shirasade'>shirasade</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Writer's Month 2020 [24]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TV Commercials, เพราะรักใช่ป่าว | Why R U?: The Series (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(except not), Alternate Universe - Police, Bad Parenting, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Denial of Feelings, Dom Tutor (Why R U?: The Series), Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, Medent commercials, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Fighter, Partners to Lovers, Posted Out Of Order, Semi-Public Sex, Sickfic, Sub Fighter (Why R U?: The Series), Tumblr Fic, Undercover As Gay, mention of murder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:54:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24895375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirasade/pseuds/shirasade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Fighter laid eyes on his new partner, he almost dropped his coffee.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fighter/Tutor (Why R U?: The Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Writer's Month 2020 [24]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859722</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Shirasade's Boys Love works, Writer's Month 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. First meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by the glorious <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4jSL7-3Y6xw">ZaintSee Medent commercial</a> (where they play cops in order to sell tooth paste *g*), I've been posting drabbles and snippets of this 'verse in random order on Tumblr. Several lovely people seem to really enjoy it - so I figured I should share it here, too. </p><p> </p><p>  </p><p> </p><p>Chapters will be posted in chronological story-order, therefore they won't be in the order I write them. If you get confused, there's a <a href="https://shirasade.tumblr.com/medent-au">masterpost</a> on Tumblr. At some point I might even think of a proper title. :)</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>300 words. The one that started it all. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Fighter laid eyes on his new partner, he almost dropped his coffee.</p>
<p><em>Beautiful.</em> It was the only word to describe the younger man in his immaculately tailored grey coat and white turtleneck, his face seeming too soft and gentle for their line of work. Fighter was so distracted drinking in this incongruous sight in the middle of their busy and slightly grimy bullpen, he missed their Captain making introductions.</p>
<p>Then his new partner was talking, his voice as melodious and perfect as the rest of him, and all Fighter could hear was, “… name…ter.”</p>
<p>“Um, nice to meet you, Ter,” Fighter replied after an awkwardly long pause, finally wrenching his gaze away and fixing it on the stacks of paperwork on his desk.</p>
<p>“P’, my name’s Tutor, not Ter.” The correction, while unfailingly polite, was stated in a rather less than cordial tone, and Fighter flushed with embarrassment. Unfortunately his go-to reaction to being put on the spot was one of gruff annoyance. This held true now.</p>
<p>Stiffening his spine, he looked down at the younger detective, ignoring the fact that they were pretty much the same height. “Well, you’re the rookie and my junior, so if I want to call you Ter, I will.”</p>
<p>“If you say so, P'Fight.” Obviously Tutor at least had been paying attention when the captain had introduced them, but there was no mistaking the ice in the air between them as he sat down at his new desk. Following his example, Fighter had the strong urge to bang his head against his own desk in frustration.</p>
<p>This was not the kind of first impression he’d wanted to make. However, he didn’t know how to fix things. Not when his heart started racing whenever he so much as peeked at his new partner.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A heart-to-heart over Tutor’s clothing choices</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No smut, but an actual conversation with some backstory. Set early in their partnership.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fighter had done his share of undercover work. He didn’t particularly enjoy it, preferred the honesty of straightforward detective work, but it was part of his job, and he was good at it. His look and personality made it easy to blend in among the less savory sort of criminal - drug dealers, pimps, organised crime. On one memorable occasion he’d even helped bust a human trafficking ring by taking part in illegal street fights.</p><p>Then he was partnered with Tutor. Tutor with his deceptively soft face that hid a core of steel. Most definitely not the type of cop who could pass as hired muscle in the underworld, no matter that Fighter knew all too well what strength lay hidden under his expensive clothes.</p><p>“Why do you do that?” he asked after Tutor had whipped his ass during a mandatory self-defense class and they were walking back to the precinct. “Why do you dress in a way that makes people think you’re…”</p><p>“Weak? A soft <em>koon chai</em>?” Surprisingly enough, for once his new partner didn’t sound annoyed when he explained, “Actually, I <em>was</em> a rich kid growing up, but then my family lost everything. Things were… hard for a while. It’s how I ended up in the police academy, because we couldn’t afford my university tuition. Not something you would understand, is it, P'Fight?”</p><p>Fighter was almost grateful for the barbed question; it felt much more familiar than Tutor’s honesty. But he didn’t have the heart to snap back, not when they were bonding for the first time since becoming partners. “I guess not. I mostly joined the force because I knew it would piss off my father. And because I knew he couldn’t say so openly. After all, I protect the public, I’m practically a hero!”</p><p>Tutor’s bark of laughter caused Fighter to grin as well. It felt good to confide in someone, even if it surprised him that this someone was Tutor, who’d kept him off-balance ever since they met, albeit through no fault of his. Well, mostly, because Tutor was nothing if not prickly and sharp-tongued in the face of Fighter’s constant teasing, which definitely hadn’t helped their situation any. There was none of that in evidence now, however, when he returned to Fighter’s original question: “I dress the way I do because I finally can afford to do so. Also, it makes people treat me with more respect - except for you, of course.”</p><p>He actually elbowed Fighter lightly, eyes dancing with amusement, and Fighter felt his breath catch. Quickly suppressing the sensation, he shot back, “Nothing can hide those round cheeks, you look like a chipmunk.”</p><p>“I do not.” Frowning, Tutor looked away from him, staring at the shop windows they were passing - but Fighter was <em>almost</em> certain he saw him hiding a smile. “You just have no taste.”</p><p>Words to the contrary, dangerous words, betraying just how much he liked pretty much everything about his partner, threatened to spill from Fighter’s lips. He bit them back, instead settling on returning to more familiar ground by teasing, “At least I don’t waste my money on designer clothes.” He regretted the words the moment they were spoken, realising how they belittled Tutor’s confiding in him. He quickly added, “But hey, you already have the wardrobe if we ever have to go undercover somewhere fancy.”</p><p>It wasn’t enough, Tutor’s previously relaxed posture had already stiffened, and the rest of their walk was conducted in silence, much to Fighter’s chagrin. Why couldn’t he behave like a normal, decent human being around his partner?</p><p>However, it was quite a while before they finally had their first undercover assignment. Fighter suspected their captain had waited for them to build real trust, an absolute necessity when they had no backup except each other - or rather, he hoped that was the reason. Because if they were being sent to investigate a string of murders connected to an exclusive gay club because the captain knew in which way they’d at least partly resolved their trust issues… Well then they were in real trouble.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Their first kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Rated T for make-outs.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were few things more satisfying than cracking a challenging case. That feeling after they’d been pouring over the evidence board for hours, passing ideas back and forth, when their eyes met and things suddenly fell into place - it was almost intoxicating. He’d never experienced anything quite like it with previous partners, but despite their very different personalities, he and Tutor just… clicked. At least when it came to work.</p><p>Tutor was smart and precise, making it obvious why he’d made detective at such a young age, and he never gave up. Just another thing about him that captured Fighter’s attention. Seeing Tutor’s razor-sharp focus made him want those eyes directed at him. When they were working, he usually managed to keep himself in check, professionalism winning out over the admittedly childish urges to poke and prod at his partner that reared their head at the most inopportune moments.</p><p>However, there was nothing childish about the heat curling in the pit of Fighter’s stomach when Tutor looked up, triumphant smile turning his beauty radiant, and exclaimed, “It was the driver! Your instincts were right on the money, P'Fight.”</p><p>The compliment suffused Fighter with an entirely different kind of warmth, and he straightened up, heart hammering in his chest. They’d been bowed over the same file, alone in the evidence room, hours after everyone had gone home, and now they stood only centimetres apart. There was no mistaking the widening of Tutor’s eyes at whatever he saw on Fighter’s face, nor the way they flicked down to Fighter’s lips momentarily. It proved to be the last straw.</p><p>Cupping Tutor’s cheeks in both hands, he trailed his thumb over those pink lips, marveling at the velvety skin beneath his fingers, somehow even softer than it looked. Voice hoarse he said, “Tell me to stop, Tor.”</p><p>Tutor’s lips parted in a shuddering sigh, sending goosebumps racing down Fighter’s spine. The next moment they were kissing, all hunger and heat, the tension that had been building between them released in an explosive meeting of lips and tongues. Fighter wanted to devour Tutor, and his partner gave back as good as he got, as if he’d also been aching for this.</p><p>His fingers slid into Fighter’s hair and dug in sharply. Fighter groaned into the kiss, let Tutor take control, bare his neck so he could latch onto his neck, his Adam’s apple. It was all Fighter could do to splay his hands across Tutor’s back, pull him impossibly closer. When their hips met, they both gasped at the friction, rocking mindlessly against each other, arousal quickly skyrocketing. Fighter had never been more turned on in his life.</p><p>He was pretty sure they would have continued making out like horny teenagers, but right then the torch of the nightwatchman became visible through the crack of the door that separated them from the empty bullpen. They jumped apart as if they’d been burned, trying desperately to fix their hair and clothing, although there was little they could do about the red marks on Fighter’s neck and their kiss-swollen mouths.</p><p>Fighter found it hard to tear his eyes away from the sight, the desire to capture Tutor’s plush lips again almost too strong to resist. However, Tutor was already miles away, the moment well and truly broken when he narrowed his eyes at Fighter and hissed, “What the hell was this about?”</p><p>“I…” Fighter couldn’t look his partner in the eye, casting about for an explanation beyond, <em>You drive me crazy, and I want more, all the time</em>. As seemed to happen all too often when it came to Tutor, what came out instead was, “I was just messing with you.”</p><p>The new flush colouring Tutor’s cheeks was one of anger, not desire. Holding himself stiffly, the younger man quickly put on his coat, refusing to look at Fighter. He only turned on the threshold, eyes flashing, voice leaving no room for argument: “This will not happen again, P’, it was highly unprofessional. I will see you tomorrow to make the arrest.”</p><p>With that he left, striding swiftly towards the elevators. Fighter was left looking after him, skin still tingling wherever Tutor had touched him, kissed him, eaten him alive. When he’d dared imagine a scenario like this, it had always led to more clarity about his feelings towards and his relationship with Tutor. Instead he felt more confused and alone than ever.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A chase on foot ends with both of them wet and cold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is set sometime after their first kiss.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The chase through the pouring rain had left them both soaked through - and they didn’t even have an arrest to show for their efforts. Instead they came to a stop at the exit of a parking structure, both panting and cursing as their quarry escaped them in a stolen car, tires squealing.</p><p>“He’ll be at his dealer’s place tomorrow,” Tutor finally said, still breathless and much too attractive for Fighter’s comfort in his disheveled state. “We can catch him then.”</p><p>He tugged off his wet coat with an air of disgust. All Fighter could focus on was the way his partner’s white shirt was plastered to his chest, allowing a tantalising glimpse at a peaked nipple, as Tutor didn’t seem to be wearing an undershirt. Swallowing hard, he forced his thoughts out of the gutter and agreed.</p><p>Something in his voice must have given him away, though, because Tutor’s eyes narrowed. “P'Fight, did you hear me?”</p><p>“Yeah, sure.” Fighter faked a cough, wrenching his gaze up from where it had once again wandered over his partner’s body. “Tomorrow at the dealer’s place.”</p><p>He was beginning to feel cold and uncomfortable, his own clothes in just as sorry a state as Tutor’s - maybe even worse, because nothing could be more uncomfortable than waterlogged jeans, which seemed to wear a ton. Tutor was wearing chinos as always and was currently wringing out his coat. At least Fighter’s leather jacket had held off some of the worst rain. Still, he shivered in spite of himself, which got his partner’s attention.</p><p>“Are you cold, P'Fight?” he inquired, sounding so innocent Fighter almost suspected him of teasing. He didn’t bother with a reply, figuring it was obvious that they both felt the same miserable mix of exhaustion, frustration and physical discomfort. Tutor’s eyes softened, and his voice held a warmth that danced over Fighter’s skin like a caress as he offered, “My place is really close. Why don’t you come with me, you can use the shower and I’ll put your clothes in the dryer.”</p><p>Fighter was aware that he was gaping. They’d been partners for a while now, but they’d never spent time together outside of work, much less visited each other’s condos. Especially after the… incident in the evidence room, they’d both been the picture of professionalism, not even bickering all that much. Not that Fighter missed it, just as he hadn’t spent way too much time remembering that kiss. Shaking himself, he realised he’d been quiet too long.</p><p>“Or you can just call a cab and I’ll see you tomorrow, P’.”</p><p>Tutor was drawing away, the warmth draining from his features, leaving Fighter scrambling to get it back. “No! Please, I’d be grateful.”</p><p>“Alright.” Tutor’s smile was a balm to Fighter’s soul, making him wish he could keep it there always. Stepping closer, he held his leather jacket up so they were both partly sheltered. Tutor gave him a curious look but accepted the wordless offer with a graceful shrug. Side by side, they stepped out into the rain again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Fighter has a problem</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Almost 1500 smutty words - and in case this wasn’t obvious before, I’m totally pushing my sub!Fighter agenda here. *g*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fighter had a problem. Said problem was currently briefing their Chief about the theory they’d developed about the recent murder, laying out the facts in his usual calm manner, his voice firm. He was also wearing light-blue jeans and a fluffy pink sweater, because they’d been called in on their day off and Tutor had obviously thought there wasn’t time to change into his work uniform of trench coat, turtle neck and slacks.</p><p>This was a problem because Fighter was half-hard in the linen shorts he was wearing. Tutor looked good enough to eat on a normal day, his clothes always impeccably tailored to show off his slim but well-muscled physique, but Fighter had developed a certain immunity to that look. Right now, however, his partner just looked… <em>touchable</em>, more vulnerable and open without the armour of his regular clothes. Fighter’s fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, although he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to run his hands all over the sweater or cup Tutor’s cheeks, which somehow seemed rounder, softer than normal, his lips pinker, more inviting.</p><p>Closing his hands into tight fists and cursing internally, Fighter tried to shut down this treacherous train of thought and focus on Tutor’s words instead. At some point he would almost certainly be expected to chime in, after all, and he somehow didn’t think that, “Sorry, but I was too busy imagining my partner’s mouth around my dick,” would go down well with either the Chief or Tutor. Taking a deep breath, he managed to rein in the worst of his arousal and even offered some additional information, although he was pretty sure he caught Tutor giving him a suspicious look out of the corner of his eye. Fighter studiously ignored this, doing his best to pretend everything was normal.</p><p>In reality, nothing about this whole thing was normal. What confused Fighter most of all was that he’d never had much a problem controlling his libido. He’d always found flirting easy, earning himself a reputation as a bit of a ladies’ man, but he’d rarely felt the urge to follow through. That was until Tutor, whose very existence appeared designed to complicate Fighter’s life, and who, ever since that kiss in the evidence room, only needed to stand close or smile for Fighter to suddenly having to fight an inopportune boner like a hormonal adolescent. The fact that it was his male partner who’d brought out this new side of him was something he tried very hard not to think about.</p><p>It had only gotten worse since the night that Tutor had insisted on taking Fighter home with him. Now he knew what his partner looked like shirtless, and the feeling of his bare chest pressed against his own, his breath gusting hotly over Fighter’s flushed face as he pressed him back against the armrest of the couch, had fueled many a jerking off session. He always felt guilty afterwards, but that didn’t stop him.</p><p>Just as it didn’t stop him from following Tutor to the men’s room once they were dismissed. The lock clicked shut, and most of Fighter’s blood rushed south, even before Tutor pushed him against the sink. Other than that he didn’t touch him, just looked at him consideringly from dark, hooded eyes, and Fighter drew a shuddering breath, his heart hammering in his ears. It should be an incongruous sight, the innocent-looking young man in his pink sweater reducing Fighter to this quivering mass of anticipation and desire with nothing more than a glance.</p><p>Yet when Tutor grabbed his throat lightly, the pressure of his hand made Fighter swallow hard, and he had to suppress a whimper at the huskiness in his partner’s voice as he said, “You’ve been wanting to touch me ever since you saw me today.” It wasn’t a question, so Fighter didn’t reply, just stayed perfectly still, his hands clenching on the cool tile of the sink behind him. Tutor smiled, sharp and amused, and leaned in to nip at Fighter’s Adam’s apple. His next words demanded an answer: “Remember the rules?”</p><p>“Y…yes,” Fighter stammered. Tutor had been very clear, back at his condo, that, whatever happened between them, it was nothing but two sexually compatible adults letting off steam. It was exactly what Fighter had needed to hear, and he clung to it now as well, even as their lips finally met in a heated kiss. Their bodies collided, rocked into each other, and Fighter groaned into Tutor’s mouth at both the friction and the proof of Tutor’s own arousal. It felt amazing - but it wasn’t what he wanted.</p><p>Not giving himself time to think, he switched their positions and broke the kiss, instead moving his mouth downwards. He didn’t spend too much time on Tutor’s neck, no visible marks being one of the rules they’d established, but he pushed up Tutor’s sweater, dimly registering that it was as soft as it looked, and mouthed at his nipples. Tutor’s hands tightened in Fighter’s hair, and he leaned back to give him better access. The hard nubs, enticing as their were, weren’t Fighter’s main objective, however. Neither were the hard planes of Tutor’s abs when he slowly went to his knees.</p><p>He’d never done this, had only been on the receiving end a few times himself. Luckily the most memorable time was Tutor himself, taking him apart on his living room couch. So now, while hastily unbuttoning his partner’s jeans and pushing them down along with his boxer briefs, Fighter tried to remember what he’d done. A hand appeared in his field of vision, offering him a familiar square foil package. Fighter took it, telling himself he was imagining the slight tremor in those perfectly manicured fingers. His own fingers, on the other hand, were definitely shaking as they rolled the condom on the hard length that curved up against Tutor’s stomach. Glancing upwards, he found Tutor staring at him intently, a strange mix of heat and awe making Fighter shiver and get impossibly harder.</p><p>“Fuck, P'Fight…” Tutor sounded wrecked, and the warmth which uncurled in Fighter’s chest had little to do with the desire that had him rocking his cock against the hand not currently holding the base of Tutor’s erection. It felt dangerous, somehow, so Fighter quickly refocused his attention on the feeling of Tutor in his mouth, on the sounds he made when Fighter hollowed his cheeks or swirled his tongue around the head. The bathroom tiles were hard under his knees and his jaw was beginning to ache, but that didn’t change the fact that Fighter was more turned on than he could ever remember being, especially when Tutor began to praise him, panting and hoarse, “So good, oh fuck… Yes, P'Fight, just like that… just…”</p><p>Tutor tightened his grip on Fighter’s head, tried to pull him up. It sent sparks of pleasure-pain through Fighter’s body, all the way from his scalp to his toes. He refused to budge, instead tried to take him as deep as he could. Tutor cursed, hips bucking helplessly while he came, and triumph flared hot inside Fighter, despite the fact that he almost choked. He’d done this - he’d been the one to do this to Tutor, to turn him from perfectly composed, always-in-control detective into this disheveled, red-faced <em>human</em>.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, after he’d recovered enough to pull Fighter to his feet, it took Tutor less than five minutes to bring Fighter to his own climax, his spit-slick hand hot around his cock, his tongue apparently determined to lick every last trace of himself out of Fighter’s mouth. It was all Fighter could do to hold on, his hands gripping the fluffy pink sweater so tightly, Tutor shook his head in exasperation once Fighter had recovered enough to stand on still slightly wobbly legs.</p><p>“You ruined my favourite sweater, holding on to me,” he complained in familiar annoyance, but there was no heat to it, and his hands were gentle when he cleaned up Fighter’s softening dick. Of course Tutor had somehow managed to catch most of Fighter’s come with his hand, sparing their clothes.</p><p>Not that Fighter would have cared one way or the other. His heart rate slowly returning to normal, he laughed, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. “I’ll buy you a new one.”</p><p>He knew that the feeling wouldn’t last past the unlocking of the bathroom door, but for now Tutor was smiling at him, looking almost fond, and Fighter felt as if there was no problem he couldn’t face.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Hwahwa appears on the scene</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Set in the early-ish days of their partnership.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Agreeing to go on a date with the daughter of his father’s girlfriend was decidedly one of the stupider decisions Fighter had ever made.</p><p>But the relationship with his business tycoon of a single parent was strained enough as it was, and since Fighter wasn’t seeing anyone and wasn’t about to tell him about the complicated feelings his new partner had woken in him, he figured going along with it just this once was the path of least resistance. Definitely easier than yet another attempt at a conversation about Fighter’s life goals and preferences that ended in icy contempt. No one could make Fighter feel smaller than his father, one of the many reasons why he’d moved out as soon as he’d graduated from the police academy and only showed up for uncomfortable weekly dinners.</p><p>The night of the date he left the precinct along with Tutor and caught sight of a pretty young woman, who he recognised from the photo his father had shown him, leaning against an expensive-looking car. However, his mild dread at the prospect of a night of awkward small talk turned into outright panic when he heard his partner call out warmly, “Hwa, what are you doing here? Did we have plans?”</p><p>“Ai'Tor!” Hwahwa looked up from her phone, her face lighting up in surprise. “Is this where you work now? I’m actually here for a blind date - and I think it’s with the handsome fellow next to you.”</p><p>She gave Fighter a coy smile, even as Tutor’s mouth dropped open in shock.</p><p>“<em>Fighter</em>? You’re here for a date with my partner?” Tutor sounded as incredulous as Fighter felt. The look Tutor shot him was sharp enough to cut glass, and Fighter wished desperately for a hole in the ground to open and swallow him up. His life was officially turning into a soap opera.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Fighter loses his cool after Tutor confronts him about Hwa</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>500 words.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Between the two of them, Tutor was definitely better with witnesses. He could turn on the charm and ask exactly the right kinds of questions to help them solve their case. Still, sometimes the nice approach didn’t work, which is when Fighter got to play the intimidation game, looming over a suspect with his shirtsleeves rolled up, implying that he might cross the line into actual violence.</p><p>He never did, of course. He learned a long time ago to keep a tight rein on his hot temper. Which is why it came as a bit of a shock how easily Tutor managed to get under his skin.</p><p>“Really, you’re dating my best friend now?” The look of disbelief and disdain on his partner’s face made Fighter’s blood boil. Before he could stop himself, he pushed Tutor against the wall of the locker room, where they’d been changing into their civvies. They’d received a medal from the Commissioner today, which had required dress uniforms and been conducted in a public forum.</p><p>Naturally Fighter’s father had invited himself. This Fighter had expected. What he hadn’t expected was the sight of Hwahwa next to him, waving excitedly, as if she had any right to be there. Even worse, once the ceremony was done, she’d basically thrown herself at him, babbling about how hot he looked under his father’s satisfied eyes, while Tutor’s eyebrows had risen higher and higher. Alright, so maybe it wasn’t that surprising that Fighter’s control had snapped once they were alone, after he’d held himself back from making a scene in front of his father.</p><p>Now he caged Tutor in with both arms, their faces only inches apart, Tutor’s eyes boring into his unflinchingly. It only served to fuel the fire burning in Fighter’s veins.</p><p>“And what if I was? Or are you staking a prior claim?” He didn’t like this version of himself, a part of him already tasting the disgust he’d feel later on his tongue, but sometimes just being close to his partner seemed to shut off the reasoning part of his brain. Leaning even closer, he asked roughly, “Are you in love with Hwa?”</p><p>The disdainful sound Tutor made barely qualified as a laugh. “Of course not. Unlike you, I know the difference between friendship and love. Or sex.”</p><p>Tutor glanced downwards meaningfully, and Fighter became immediately and uncomfortably aware that he was half-hard, which was all too visible through the thin fabric of his boxers. Growling in frustration, he tore himself away from his partner. “Whatever. I’m leaving. They’re waiting for me outside, my father and Hwahwa.”</p><p>He scrambled into his jeans, refusing to look at Tutor, who’d pushed himself off the wall and was now sitting on the bench where he’d left his clothes. He wasn't getting dressed, though, just… watching Fighter with eyes that seem to understand way too much, reading him the way he can read witnesses. Fighter wasn’t sure if that made him want to stay or run away.</p><p>He ran.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. After Fighter breaks up with Hwahwa</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You won’t believe how long it took me to write these 350 words…</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fighter might have spent most of his working hours with his partner, but oh, how he’d missed him nevertheless. He hadn’t allowed himself to admit it, even to himself, but now, as Tutor nudged his lips open with his tongue, kissing him breathless, his heart ached with relief.</p>
<p>Sliding his hands into his partner’s silky hair, Fighter opened up to him, let himself be swept away by his emotions for once instead of scrambling for the edges of his self-control the way he’d previously done. Not that that had stopped Tutor from taking him apart with an ease that frightened Fighter. Dating Hwahwa hadn’t solely been about pleasing his father, it had also been a last-ditch attempt to avoid the intensity of his own reactions. A futile attempt, as it turned out, and one Fighter had finally brought to an end yesterday, after another ugly confrontation with his father.</p>
<p>Maybe Fighter should thank him for being the one to give him the final push, just for the pleasure of seeing his face turn purple when he told him that his main motivation for ending the charade was so his very male partner would have sex with him again. Which they were well on their way to right now, Tutor’s nimble fingers already unbuttoning Fighter’s jeans. Fighter let his head drop back with a groan, an opening that Tutor immediately used to slide his lips over Fighter’s jaw, mouthing at his Adam’s apple in that very distracting way he had.</p>
<p>He definitely had a thing for Fighter’s neck, and Fighter wasn’t complaining at all. On the contrary, when Tutor had gripped him lightly, applying a little pressure, and whispered huskily, “P'Fight, Hwa told me you broke up with her,” before closing the distance between their mouths, most of Fighter’s blood had immediately rushed south. The fact that Tutor was apparently almost as eager as Fighter to resume their extracurricular activities was intoxicating. Only Fighter could do this, give his partner pleasure that robbed him of his usual restraint.</p>
<p>If that was all Tutor wanted to give him, Fighter would take it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Undercover at the gay club</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Their first undercover mission, as mentioned all the way back <a href="#section0002">here</a>. Almost long enough to be its own fic! ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The music was pounding, its bass reverberating through Fighter's body as they paid their rather steep entrance fee and made their way down the stairs towards the packed dance floor. </p><p>"Drinks first, then mingle?" Fighter had to lean in for Tutor to hear him, close enough so he could smell his partner's expensive aftershave and take note of the subtle eyeliner and lip gloss he'd applied for the occasion. It made Fighter's breath catch, but that was all for the best. After all, they were supposed to pose as a couple in order to gather information about the victims, all of whom were gay couples that had been to this particular gay club in the week before their murders. </p><p>So for once, Fighter was actually supposed to show how much he appreciated the way Tutor looked all in black, his slacks hugging his ass, his shirt unbuttoned enough to allow a glimpse of collarbone. Fighter's own white shirt hung open almost to his waist under his well-worn leather jacket, and paired with his tightest pair of ripped jeans he didn't need to see the hungry looks directed at them to know that they made for quite a dashing pair.</p><p>Wrapping a possessive arm around Tutor's waist, Fighter steered them to the bar, ignoring the eyebrow Tutor raised in pointed amusement at the gesture. It was only part of their roles, after all, nothing to do with the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach, which only increased when they clinked their glasses together and his partner smirked at him flirtatiously. "To a good night's hunting, P'."</p><p>"A good night's hunting," Fighter repeated and tossed back his gin and tonic. It was rather light on the gin, which had been the point in ordering it considering they were on duty, but he figured it was the principle of the thing. While he waited for Tutor to finish his own drink in a more leisurely fashion, Fighter scanned the premises. At first glance, it didn't seem any different from every other club he'd been to - cloak room, bar, dance floor, fire exits, rest rooms, and a hallway in the corner that he figured led to the back offices.</p><p>The only difference was a VIP room up top, at street level. He'd noticed it when they came in, mostly because of the security stationed at the door and the curtains making it impossible for the regular customers to catch a glimpse unless the VIP guests chose to use the balcony jutting out over the dance floor. But then, Fighter didn't usually frequent anything quite this fancy, so he assumed it had less to do with this being a gay venue than an expensive one.</p><p>"Getting into there will be a bit of a challenge," he ventured, nodding upwards. "Maybe we should work up to it and go to the dance floor first?"</p><p>Easily following his train of thought, Tutor nodded and offered him his hand. Fighter followed him through the crowds, his entire body humming with excitement at the prospect of dancing with his partner. Sure, they were working, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy Tutor's hand in his or the way Tutor's hips moved to the beat of the music. They moved together easily, although it quickly became clear that Tutor was by far the better dancer. Instead of teasing Fighter for it, however, he rested his hands on Fighter's shoulders and pressed closer so they swayed together. </p><p>"I don't see anything out of the ordinary." Tutor's voice was barely a whisper, a gust of hot air against Fighter's ear, making it hard to focus on his words. "Just the regular club goers in various states of intoxication, but I'd say nothing worse than alcohol, pot, probably some ecstasy. There's certainly enough skin on display to say that there are no gang tattoos, and the background checks Zon ran previously don't show any irregularities in the club's finances. In short, everything's as one could expect - and yet..."</p><p>"...and yet four gay men have been murdered who don't seem to have anything in common except that they were couples and had been here," Fighter finished, his brain switching back into a more professional mode. He looked around, not surprised to find no flaw in Tutor's line of reasoning. They were blending in perfectly, everyone around them preoccupied with pursuing a night's pleasure. Except... "Wait, someone's watching from the balcony. Guy, mid-40s, dressed rather flamboyantly in pink and gold."</p><p>Inserting a thigh between Fighter's legs Tutor smoothly moved them so he could look up surreptitiously and check out the man staring down at them with unblinking eyes. "Oh yes. He might just be an admirer, though - you look really hot tonight, P'Fight."</p><p>Feeling himself blush at the matter-of-fact compliment, Fighter was grateful for the colourful lights and replied quickly, "Well, so do you. But it could be something."</p><p>"Sure," Tutor agreed easily. "Let's test it, shall we? We should check out the rest of the club anyway."</p><p>Without waiting for a response, he disentangled himself from Fighter, but only enough to sling an arm over his shoulder and steer him firmly towards the back hallway Fighter had noticed previously. Feeling slightly confused, he allowed himself to be led, as always refusing to acknowledge how much he enjoyed Tutor taking charge. "What are we doing back there?" </p><p>His question was mostly a cover, and he was surprised when Tutor laughed throatily. "Do you really not know what goes on in the back rooms?"</p><p>"Back rooms?" Apparently he had overlooked something in his initial survey of the club. </p><p>Stopping in his tracks, Tutor turned to face him, looking at him intently, as if trying to figure out if Fighter was joking. Obviously coming to the conclusion that he really had no idea, he explained with barely concealed amusement, "A lot of gay clubs have these rooms where men can go to... be more intimate than they can be on the dance floor." </p><p>"What, like rooms to rent?" </p><p>Tutor licked his lips, and as always Fighter couldn't help but follow the movement. "Nothing so private. I guess I'll just have to show you. But have you really never been to a place like this?"</p><p>"No," Fighter replied hoarsely. This wasn't a conversation he'd thought he'd have tonight. Or ever, really. Still, he figured his partner deserved an answer. "You... You're the first guy I've ever been with." Cutting off Tutor's reaction, he quickly continued, before his nerves could get the better of him, "I mean, I knew I was interested in men, too, but with my job and my father, it was just easier to be with women, I guess."</p><p>He wasn't sure what reaction he'd expected, but it wasn't the gentleness in Tutor's eyes, nor the soft press of lips against his. Unable to hold back a shuddering breath, Fighter melted into the kiss, forgetting for a moment where they were. After a moment that felt simultaneously like an eternity and much too short, they separated but remained leaning against each other amongst the crowds surrounding them, and Fighter flushed with the realisation that this was the first time they kissed that hadn't felt like foreplay. It made him feel strangely tongue-tied.</p><p>Luckily Tutor didn't seem to expect him to speak. Instead he grabbed his hand and pulled him determinedly towards the back rooms. When they turned the corner they stepped into a much more dimly lit area. There was another type of music here, sexy Rn'B drowning out the electronic dance beats from outside. The men here were busy with a different type of dance, most of them making out against the walls or in the various nooks and crannies. There was no nudity, no full-on sex, but it was definitely more action than would be appropriate in more public spaces.</p><p>Arousal coiled inside Fighter, made him tighten his hold on Tutor, who met his gaze heatedly, no need for words between them. It went way beyond the call of duty, of course, but they both knew what was about to happen next. If their assignment gave them an excuse, all the better, Fighter thought dimly even as he crowded Tutor against a column that just happened to allow his partner a good overview of the area.</p><p>Then they were kissing, grinding against each other, and Fighter forgot all about work for a moment. He'd been turned on pretty much since he laid eyes on Tutor that night, and now he allowed himself to get lost in his partner's intoxicating proximity, the sensation of his hands in his hair, his body rocking in time to the music, the friction making Fighter's tight jeans feel even tighter. Unbuttoning Tutor's shirt, he slid his hands inside, exploring the lightly muscled chest, pebbled nipples and firm abs.</p><p>Tutor groaned and leaned his head back, firmly guiding Fighter away from his lips, downwards. A blush was working its way down from his cheeks, clearly visible on his pale skin, and Fighter followed it with complete fascination. Another moan escaped Tutor when Fighter lapped at first one nipple, then the other, and there was no denying the hard line of his erection against Fighter's thigh. </p><p>However, suddenly he found their positions reversed, his back hitting the wall with a thud. Mouthing at his Adam's apple, Tutor whispered hoarsely, "At two o'clock, there's the guy."</p><p>Difficult as it was to gather his wits, Fighter managed to ignore Tutor's attentions enough to follow his direction. Indeed, there was the man from the balcony, and he was still watching them intently. Fighter supposed his interest in them could be voyeuristic, but something in his gut churned at the sight, something that only grew stronger when the man approached them.</p><p>There was something strange about him, something exaggerated, from his walk to his clothes, to the way he spoke when he addressed them: "My, my, look how gorgeous you are! It's almost a pity to interrupt."</p><p>Fighter might not have had the exposure to queer culture that Tutor had, but he'd met some more feminine and flamboyant gay men, and this one felt... fake. He only needed one look at Tutor to know that he shared his suspicions. Trusting in his partner's deftness with words, he left it to him to reply, "Then why are you? Interrupting us, I mean."</p><p>If Fighter had said the same, it would have sounded harsh, but Tutor managed to turn it into a tease. A perfect lure. And one that their suspect took beautifully. "Because I have a proposition for you, if you're amenable."</p><p>And just like that, they had caught their fish.</p><p>As it turned out, there was indeed something wrong with the man. He'd approached every one of the couples and got them to agree to meet him, supposedly so he could watch them have sex in exchange for rather generous compensation. In reality, however, he had killed them, driven by hatred and all sorts of psychological issues Fighter didn't even begin to understand. The killer's clothes, his speech, his entire demeanour had been a careful act, a mimicry of what he thought gay people were like. </p><p>It was just a pity that the murder victims hadn't been able to see through him, the way Fighter and Tutor had. </p><p>"But then, that's why they pay us the big bucks, isn't it?" Fighter grinned at his partner, who snorted sardonically. They'd just been debriefed by the captain, who'd complimented them on their competent handling of the situation. Fighter reckoned it was a good thing they hadn't been wearing wires, because while their strategy had worked, he doubted their superiors would approve of their methods. </p><p>It was the middle of the night, and Fighter should by rights be tired and on his way home. Instead he was dawdling outside the station, his body still humming with adrenaline, both from a job well done and from the activities that had preceded the arrest. While he was still trying to find a way to invite Tutor home with him, his partner as always seemed to anticipate him: "Do you want to get some takeaway and eat at my place?"</p><p>There was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes, and Fighter had rarely agreed more quickly to anything. He even dared to offer Tutor a ride on his bike, gratified when it was accepted easily. They'd come a long way from the grudging respect and attraction they'd shared in the beginning, and now Fighter had Tutor pressed against his back, his hands low on his stomach, and the prospect of hot sex at the end of the drive. This partners-with-benefits thing was really working out well.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm still so incredibly blocked, but I'm home sick, and somehow I managed to write this...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Tutor is sick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some soft sick fic because I have a cold. As mentioned, I'm not writing these in order, so don't be confused that this isn't the last chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Fighter ambled into the bullpen, he was rather surprised not to be greeted by the familiar sight of his partner already sat at his desk, diligently doing paperwork. Tutor was literally the only detective in the precinct who was on top of his inbox, something Fighter envied, albeit not to the extent that he’d get up earlier to follow his example. In short, it was rare for him to be the first one in, so he told himself it was entirely normal to feel a slight pang of worry.</p>
<p>Looking around the office, he kept his voice carefully light as he asked, “Hey, Zol, any idea why Tutor’s not here yet?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, he called in sick earlier.” Sounding much too casual for Fighter’s taste, their bubbly office admin looked up from her ubiquitous phone and shot him an amused glance. “He said not to worry and that P’ should use the day to catch up on your paperwork.”</p>
<p>There was indeed a precariously stacked pile of files on Fighter’s desk, but instead of following his partner’s sound advice, Fighter turned on his heel, ignoring Zol’s knowing giggles. On the way to Tutor’s place, he stopped by a pharmacy and a food stall, before parking his bike in front of the condo he’d been to only once before, on that rather memorable night when they’d been rained on. Heat curled in Fighter’s stomach when he remembered Tutor’s body above his, their bare chests pressed together as he spelled out the rules he expected Fighter to follow should they decide to take things further. The heat in his partner’s eyes had had Fighter breathless and uncomfortably hard long before Tutor had smirked and slid to the floor to thoroughly wreck Fighter with his mouth.</p>
<p>Mentally giving himself a shake, Fighter forced his mind away from the tantalising but entirely untimely memories. This was not what today was about.</p>
<p>It took Tutor a worryingly long time to answer the door after Fighter rang it. Long enough for Fighter to second-guess his impulsive behaviour more than once, but he stood his ground and was finally rewarded with the sight of his partner, staring at him as if he wasn’t quite sure he was dreaming. “P'Fight? What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>“What do you mean? Looking after my partner, of course.” Avoiding Tutor’s eyes, Fighter shouldered his way in and plopped his two bags onto the kitchen counter. “Last time I checked that’s not a crime.”</p>
<p>“No… No, of course not.” Tutor sounded uncharacteristically hesitant, and a quick sideways glance made Fighter’s heart clench. His partner was clad in soft flannel pajamas, hair an unstyled mess, eyes overly bright. It was an altogether much too endearing sight.</p>
<p>Holding back the urge to press his palm to Tutor’s forehead to check his temperature, Fighter focused on unpacking and asked gruffly, “Have you eaten? I brought you congee from that place you like.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I– I’m fine, really,” Tutor protested weakly, but he didn’t resist when Fighter pushed him down onto the couch and set the food down in front of him. “Um… thank you, P’.”</p>
<p>While he ate, Tutor kept glancing at Fighter as if he couldn’t quite process what was going on. Was he really so unused to being taken care of? The thought was surprisingly painful, and Fighter determined to make sure Tutor would know he could always count on him, not just on the job. Whatever else they were, they were partners, after all, and at this point it wouldn’t be too much to also call them friends. Was it?</p>
<p>To distract himself from these unwelcome thoughts, Fighter busied himself cleaning up a little. This mostly consisted of picking up the used tissues and tea cups littered all over the place, putting the latter into the dishwasher, since normally Tutor was a scrupulously tidy man. A quick check of the bedroom led to him also remaking the bed, since the sheets were disgustingly clammy with sweat. He did all of this in silence, except for asking for the location of clean bedding. Tutor didn’t speak either, but Fighter could feel his eyes on him almost the entire time.</p>
<p>The silence, if not exactly comfortable, was at least not awkward, and Fighter almost regretted it when there was nothing more to do. By that time Tutor had finished eating, even if there were still some leftovers. Fighter removed the plate, prattling on as he unpacked the bag from the pharmacy, “I’ll put the food in the fridge, you can eat it later. Have you all the medication you need? If not, I bought pills for your fever and some other stuff they said would help with a cold.”</p>
<p>“I… yes, I have what I need.” Tutor still sounded rather dazed and made as if to stand up. In a flash, Fighter was by his side, steadying him with an arm around his middle. Their eyes met, and Fighter flattered himself that not all the colour in his partner’s cheeks was due to the fever. “Really, P'Fight, I’ll be fine, you should go back to the precinct.”</p>
<p>Fighter wasn’t sure what it meant that despite his words Tutor didn’t move away, maybe even leaned into his embrace a little. Pleasure bubbled up in him, and a strange sort of warm pride that Tutor would allow himself to be weak in front of him, and he couldn’t help the smile on his face as he led Tutor to his bed. “I’ll leave as soon as I know you’re taken care of.”</p>
<p>Despite his words, however, he settled down on the edge of the bed and fussed over his partner until Tutor’s eyes grew heavy with sleep. Only then did he get up, after giving into temptation and running his fingers through Tutor’s hair. It was slightly matted with sweat, making Fighter regret that he hadn’t insisted on a shower. Still, there was no way he was forcing him to get up again. Instead he leaned down and pressed his lips to Tutor’s forehead, whispering, “Rest well, Tor; I’ll check on you again this evening.”</p>
<p>There was no reply, just a peaceful smile spreading on Tutor’s face, which Fighter took with him as he tiptoed out of the condo.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Some light bondage while on a case</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Have some detective smut with a bit of bondage, set sometime after they start having “casual” sex again.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fighter wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up like this: spread out naked as the day he was born, both wrists handcuffed to the bed in a cheap hotel room, his partner kneeling between his legs.</p><p>Alright, so the cheap part wasn’t surprising, because that was all the department sprang for when sending its detective outside of the city on a case. What he hadn’t expected were the handcuffs. Maybe he should have, though, what with Tutor’s propensity for manhandling him whenever they fell into bed together. Not that Fighter was complaining - on the contrary, his cock was hard, straining against the fabric of his jeans, and every fibre of him wanted to beg Tutor to stop being a fucking tease and <em>touch him</em>.</p><p>If he’d learned anything during their partnership, however, he knew that being patient now would lead to great rewards later, possibly with Tutor literally fucking him into the mattress while Fighter was completely at his mercy. They’d only done <em>that</em> once before, and that time it had been Fighter on top of Tutor, although the latter had been anything but passive. Normally they stuck to hand- and blow-jobs, since they were carefully avoiding naming or even just mentioning this thing between them, which kept pulling them together despite both their better judgements (and department non-fraternisation regulations).</p><p>Now they had the whole night, and Fighter had been hard ever since Tutor had sent him into the bathroom with strict instructions to clean himself thoroughly. His arousal had only grown when Tutor had tangled both their handcuffs in front of his face and asked silkily, “How about it? Will you let me tie you up and take you apart until you scream?”</p><p>Needless to say, Fighter had found himself secured to the headboard as soon as they’d agreed on a green-yellow-red system of safe words. Ever since ridding his of his shirt and making sure the handcuffs weren’t hurting Fighter, Tutor hadn’t touched him again, and Fighter was beginning to feel desperate.</p><p>“Tutor…” he whined, pushing his hips towards his partner, who was regarding him with a mix of amusement and desire, eyes dark and cheeks flushed. When he licked his lips, it was with great deliberation, and Fighter shivered in anticipation, imagining which part of his body those pink lips would touch first.</p><p>It was Tutor’s hands who moved first, however, reaching down to open Fighter’s zipper. While he pulled Fighter’s jeans and boxers all the way off, he only unbuttoned his own slacks, staying otherwise clothed even as he slotted himself between Fighter’s open legs. A strangled moan escaped Fighter at the first contact, a sound that Tutor swallowed almost immediately in a deep, devouring kiss.</p><p>Straining against his restraints, Fighter felt as if he was on fire, stretched out naked underneath his partner, his erection trapped between their bodies, rubbing against Tutor’s through the fabric of his clothes. Just when he thought that making out like this would drive him mad, Tutor began moving his mouth down his body, paying exquisite attention to his Adam’s apple, his nipples, the V of his Apollo’s belt. Even his thighs were lavished with kisses and bites, until Fighter was squirming with need.</p><p>When Tutor finally wrapped his lips around Fighter’s straining flesh and swallowed him down, Fighter, usually not a very vocal person in bed, groaned loudly, the sound ripped from his throat. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch the man kneeling between his legs, yet simultaneously he loved being so utterly helpless.</p><p>Overwrought, his eyes fluttered closed and he hid his face against his shoulder. Immediately, Tutor stopped and asked, “P’, which colour?”</p><p>His voice was slightly hoarse from what he’d been doing, and it only added to Fighter’s arousal, rendering him almost speechless with desire. However, knowing Tutor wouldn’t continue until he got an answer, Fighter forced himself to meet his gaze and say, breathless but firm, “Green. Please, Tor…”</p><p>Smirking, Tutor returned to his task, which appeared to be driving Fighter out of his mind. With anyone else, Fighter would have hated being so vulnerable, but not with Tutor. They might not know quite where they stood with each other, but if there was one thing Fighter was sure of, it was that he could trust his partner. Both on and off the job.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Fighter fears for Tutor’s life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one's from further down the line. Needless to say, their relationship has decidedly improved. :) Warning for non-graphic gun violence.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two shots rang out, and Fighter’s blood ran cold with the realisation that they came from the side of the building Tutor was checking for any signs of their suspect. Only years of experience stopped him from throwing protocol out of the window and rushing blindly to where he’d last seen his partner.</p><p>“Shots fired, possible officer involvement,” he reported tersely into his radio before clearing the area as quickly as he could. The moment he was certain that there was no one else hiding in the offices of the abandoned factory they’d chased the suspect to, he made his way towards the factory floor, gun at the ready. In his head, there was a frantic litany of <em>Nonono, not Tutor, I can’t lose him!</em> but he knew he wouldn’t be of any use to anyone if he endangered himself by acting rashly.</p><p>Still, it took every ounce of his control not to snap when he finally made out his partner’s familiar form, sprawled out on the concrete floor. In all his years with the police, he’d never been more scared than when he dropped to his knees next to Tutor, continuing to scan the room for danger while he touched Tutor’s neck with trembling fingers, seeking for a pulse. <em>Please, Tor, you need to be okay. I haven’t told you…</em></p><p>His panicked thoughts were interrupted by the welcome sound of Tutor coughing and opening his eyes. Relief flooded Fighter, left him light-headed, even before Tutor rubbed his chest and groaned, “He only got my vest. P'Fight, go, he can’t have gotten far, I think I hit his leg.”</p><p>Right now, Fighter couldn’t care less about the suspect, except for the burning desire to pummel him for daring to take a shot at Tutor. It was a sentiment the younger detective could obviously read in his face, because he shook a stern finger at him. “Go, catch him! You can tell me later whatever you haven't told me yet.”</p><p>Fighter was so used to following his partner’s lead when he took this tone, he was already halfway across the factory floor before the second half of Tutor’s words sank in. <em>Oh fuck.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Beach Escape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Written for WM20, day 26 prompt: summer vacation. Rated E. Set after Fighter finally confesses following the <a href="#section0012">shoot-out</a>.</p>
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    <p>The beach stretched out before them, picture perfect with white sand and turquoise water, but Fighter didn't really see it. Ever since the night of the shooting he'd barely been able to look away from the man standing beside him. </p><p>He still couldn't quite believe he'd actually had the courage to invite Tutor on this little summer escape, using the doctor's recommendation as a rather weak pretext. They both knew that, while Tutor still had some healing to do, that wasn't what this trip was actually about. For the first time they were about to spend time together away from their job, with all that entailed, and Fighter's stomach fluttered at the thought. Even more so when Tutor turned his head and, catching him staring, quirked his lips in an amused smile. "Take a picture, P', it'll last longer."</p><p>"Oh, I will," Fighter shot back, grinning giddily and daring to sling an arm over Tutor's shoulders. </p><p>As it turned out, however, it was Tutor who seemed unable to put his phone down, insisting on documenting everything they did - ambling over the markets, visiting the local temple and strolling along the beach. Fighter was almost certain he even snuck a picture when Fighter decided to go for a dip. Admittedly, Fighter had been posing just a little, hoping to convince Tutor to take off his shirt and join him in the water.</p><p>That didn't work, but when Fighter walked out, shaking himself like a dog, Tutor was watching him with open appreciation. Fighter's skin tingled where he felt Tutor's gaze, a feeling that only increased when he stepped closer to accept his towel from his partner and noticed his eyes darkening. Feeling brave, he reached out and cupped Tutor's cheek, flushed healthily from a day out in the sun. "You've got some colour back."</p><p>Tilting his head into the touch, Tutor let his mouth fall open and caught Fighter's thumb between his plump, pink lips before releasing it with a wet sound that had most of Fighter's blood rushing south. Smirking, Tutor said throatily, "You taste like the ocean. I bet I'd taste salt if I blew you right now."</p><p>A strangled noise escaped Fighter, and he bunched his towel in front of him, hoping to obscure the sudden... problem that had literally arisen in his swim trunks. "Fuck, 'Tor, you can't just... not in public!"</p><p>"Oh, I can't? Then maybe you shouldn't have shown off, P'Fight." Tutor's voice had dropped, as had his gaze, fixing on Fighter's lips. Helplessly drawn in, Fighter tried to kiss him, only to have Tutor avoid his lips with a playful laugh. "Now who's being shameless in public?"</p><p>Groaning, Fighter let his head drop to his partner's shoulder. He wasn't sure how he was going to survive until they got back to their hotel room. His problem only got worse when Tutor lifted a hand and wrapped it lightly around Fighter's neck, applying just the tiniest amount of pressure against his Adam's apple. Forced to look up, Fighter met Tutor's hungry smirk. "Do you think you can be quiet, P'?"</p><p>Unsure where his partner was going with his question, but as always trusting him, Fighter nodded, his voice having deserted him. Nodding with satisfaction, Tutor let go of his throat and grabbed the hand that wasn't busy holding up the towel like a shield. </p><p>"Good boy," Tutor said, the familiar words coiling in the pit of Fighter's stomach, hot and heavy, and set off across the sand at a brisk pace. Fighter was distracted enough that they had almost reached what was obviously their destination before he realised that Tutor was leading him to the cliffs at the end of the beach. Clambering over the rocks they had to let go of each other, but the moment they reached an alcove that was well-hidden from view, Tutor's hands were back on Fighter.</p><p>Crowding him against the cliff, he finally let Fighter taste his lips in a deep kiss, the contact alone enough to force Fighter to bite back a moan. Tearing himself away, Tutor shook his head and scolded with an amused smile, "What did I tell you? You need to be quiet. Or do you want people to come investigate?"</p><p>He might be teasing Fighter, but they were standing close enough that Fighter could see his chest rising rapidly. Also, not all of the colour in Tutor's cheeks was caused by the sun, and when Fighter pressed a thigh between Tutor's legs, there was no mistaking his interest in the proceedings. Nodding mutely to signal that he'd understood, Fighter pulled Tutor into another kiss, drinking him in like a man dying of thirst. Tutor responded just as greedily, and for a long while they forgot about everything else, hands roaming across each other's backs, hips rocking together.</p><p>It was Fighter who broke away this time, panting as he asked, "Take off your shirt, 'Tor?"</p><p>Without wasting time, Tutor obliged him, and as always Fighter had to swallow hard at the sight of him - slimmer than Fighter himself, but lean and fit. For a moment Fighter let his hands wander admiringly over the expanse of it, following the flush spreading downwards from Tutor's face, easily visible on the smooth, milky skin. When he reached the inviting V of Tutor's Apollo's belt, Tutor took a shuddering breath and wrapped his fingers around both of Fighter's wrists. He could have easily broken free, but the look in Tutor's eyes froze him in place, as did the husky sound of his voice when he chided, "As much as I love your hands on me, I have a promise to keep."</p><p>With that he picked up Fighter's towel, which he'd carelessly dropped somewhere to the side, and folded it into a small pillow that he placed at Fighter's feet. Then, letting go of Fighter's wrists, Tutor went to his knees, and Fighter's breath caught. His dick, which had been tenting his swim trunks, slapped against his stomach as Tutor freed it from its confines, and he couldn't quite hold back a groan of sheer relief and anticipation. </p><p>Although he caught Fighter's gaze and dug his fingers into his hips in clear warning, Tutor seemed inclined to let this pass for now, but Fighter still determined to do better. He wouldn't put it past Tutor to stop the moment Fighter got too loud, something Fighter was afraid might just kill him. Biting his lips, he took a steadying breath, which was promptly knocked out of him when Tutor skipped all teasing and went straight for his target. </p><p>After licking a long stripe along the underside of Fighter's cock, he blew over the wet skin before trailing his tongue over the head, teasing the uncut skin. Shivering, Fighter twisted his hands in Tutor's hair and held on for dear life as his partner then proceeded to swallow him whole. After sucking experimentally, Tutor pulled off with a plop that vibrated through Fighter, but only long enough to lick his lips and state, "As I thought, you taste like the ocean."</p><p>With that he went back to work, taking Fighter in deep and hollowing his cheeks, occasionally humming something. All Fighter could do was hold onto his partner's head and stare down at the absolute riveting sight of him. They hadn't done this very often and never without a condom, something Tutor had insisted on when they were supposedly just hooking up. Things were different now, though, and feeling Tutor's mouth hot and wet around him without a barrier was enough to make Fighter's legs shake.</p><p>He knew he wouldn't last long, not like this, with Tutor glancing up through his lashes, his nose almost buried in Fighter's pubes. Especially when one of those clever, clever hands slid between Fighter's legs, rolling his balls around and teasing the skin behind. Squeezing his eyes shut, Fighter quickly bit down on his fingers, muffling a moan that forced itself out of his chest. </p><p>Tutor stopped moving and Fighter forced his eyes open again. Nodding approvingly, Tutor slid his hand out from between Fighter's legs and up his chest, teasing his nipples and Tutor's favourite spot, Fighter's Adam's apple, before tapping two fingers against his lips. Fighter let his own fingers slip out of his mouth and greedily sucked Tutor's in, tasting his own musk, sea salt and his partner's own unique taste. The groan that escaped Tutor, who'd been watching with dark eyes reverberating through Fighter, and he could feel the familiar tightening in his balls.</p><p>Sucking harder on Tutor's long fingers, he couldn't quite stop his hips from twitching forward into the tight grip of Tutor's throat, only held back by the arm with which Tutor was holding him still. When he moved to apologise, Tutor shook his head and pushed his fingers deeper into Fighter's mouth, effectively gagging him. Fighter felt hot arousal zing through his entire body, and when Tutor took a deep breath before somehow managing to take him even deeper, pleasure crashed over him like ocean waves.</p><p>He only just managed not to topple over by gripping Tutor's shoulders while Tutor swallowed every drop of Fighter's seed, the sight of which made Fighter's cock give another twitch. Tutor kept him in his mouth, suckling gently, until Fighter shook his head, still too overwhelmed to form words. Only then did he sit back, tucking Fighter back in before guiding him down to lean against him. </p><p>Pushing through the lazy contentment spreading through him, weighing him down, Fighter reached across Tutor's thigh to cup the rather prominent bulge tenting his shorts and offered, "I can..."</p><p>"No need." Tutor's voice was hoarse, and Fighter realised with guilty arousal that it was because of him, that he'd made his partner sound like this. He wondered if he should apologise, but Tutor was faster: "Once you've recovered, P', we'll go back to the hotel. You can help me in the shower."</p><p>With that promising suggestion, he leaned in and kissed Fighter, letting him lick away every trace of his salty-bitter cum. At this rate, Fighter was definitely going to be ready for another round by the time they reached that shower. And their vacation had only just begun.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Feel free to drop me feedback and prompts about this ‘verse. :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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